Seams
by PersephoneQ
Summary: Harvey rips his suit jacket and Mike sews it up. In return, Harvey accidentally becomes Mike's sugar daddy.


**Disclaimer: Slavery is illegal. People can no longer own other people. But, if we could, I would most definitely own Mike and Harvey. But not Donna, because no one owns Donna.**

**I'm kind of a newb here so if this is bad (or good, I quite like hero worship), please tell me :)**

* * *

When comparing Harvey and Mike, one of the smaller, but most definitely noticeable, difference between the two is the amount of cursing they do. Whereas Mike is quick to let out a swear or two when angry, excited, or startled, Harvey doesn't let himself be overcome by emotions like these and therefore rarely curses due to them.

So maybe Mikes jump and immediate concern upon hearing a loud and distinct voice, swearing and cursing up a storm from near the elevator area was understandable. But, in all likelihood, it really wasn't. After all, he did scream a little before he raced to the elevator like his life depended on it.

As he ran, he mentally ran through the list of people who normally came in this early in the morning. It was a short list, but as he got closer, he finally narrowed it down enough to call out to the presumed person by the doors.

"Harvey? Are you-"

"Mike? Look at this! Just look!"

As Mike rounded the corner, worry built in his chest and threatened to spill out his throat in the form of anxious shouts or, more likely, vomit. He knew that Chinese takeout was a bad idea. But it all parked and disappeared when he finally found Harvey standing next to the elevator, holding his (nearly) empty coffee cup and briefcase in one hand and the end of his suit jacket in the other. From the pressed and wrinkled look of it, the bottom of one half had gotten shut in the doors when they closed. And from the huge tear running up Harvey's back, he hadn't realized that himself until too late.

And now the lawyer stood with coffee on his pants and shirt and his suit jacket ripped, looking pissed as hell. Mike almost wanted to laugh at the irony of it. Wasn't he normally the clumsy one?

Mike restrained himself and simply shook his head with a pitying look on his face. "**** man, that really blows. Think you can save any of it?"

Harvey glared down at himself, finally growling and pushing past Mike, who followed him to his office. Harvey set what remained of his coffee on the glass table in the middle of the office and pulled his jacket off roughly. Mike collapsed onto an armchair (his armchair; the best one in the room, possibly the entire firm, and the only one with chicken scratch in orange highlighter on the bottom, not that Harvey knew that) and watched Harvey tug off his tie with badly hidden amusement. When Harvey had gotten both off and laid down over the couch, he examined them with a sort of tired sadness in his eyes.

"Hmm, the tie is fine and my shoes are dry, but the jacket is beyond repair and I doubt even Donna can cleanse these pants. The shirt is probably beyond salvation, too.", he said gesturing to each item as he got to it. Harvey sighed and cursed again.

Mike raised an eyebrow. "Problem?"

Harvey shook his head. "No, I've got a spare I can wear."

Mike nodded and gestured to the coffee. "Want me to get you a new one?"

Harvey shook his head. "But if you could throw this away-"

Mike grabbed up the jacket before Harvey could finish and was almost at the door before he faltered and played with the fabric in his hands a bit. He looked thoughtful, almost nervous; like he was debating on something.

"'S a shame, this is a good jacket.", he said slowly.

Harvey snorted bitterly and smirked at Mike. "I know; it was my favorite."

Mike nodded and was about to leave before he sighed in a long-suffering kind of way and stomped back to the chair, slumping down in it and laying the fabric out on his lap. As he examined it, Harvey examined Mike. What the hell is he doing?, Harvey wondered before Mike answered the thought like a mind reader. He did that sometimes, and Harvey couldn't decide if he liked it or not.

"I can fix it. But, I'll need a few things first."

Harvey paused, new suit still in his arms. "Excuse me?"

Mike looked up at Harvey, face innocently blank. "I said I can fix it. But to do that I'll need a needle, thread, preferably fine and of the same color or lighter, and-"

"Wait, wait, wait, back up. You can fix it? How?"

Mike snorted and rolled his eyes. "I can sew the tails back together. 'S not hard."

Harvey frowned, caught between wanting to laugh at his associate for knowing how to sew and getting on his knees and praising him for being able to do so. He wasn't kidding when he said it was his favorite jacket. Not only that, but it was his lucky one. He always wore it on tough cases.

Instead, he just said. "But it's sloppy. The thread would show and I doubt you're good enough not to leave extra thread dangling or leave gaps-"

Mike smirked devilishly, something Harvey had only seen once before, when Mike had been showing off his photographic memory at the interview. "Trust me, I can fix it."

Harvey was surprised to find that he did. "Alright, what do you need?"

* * *

The list of things Mike needed were mostly non sequiturs; needle and thread (of course), a desk lamp, the shades drawn down, and, of course, candy. "For concentration", Mike said. "Bull", Harvey countered, but when Mike sighed and got to work without it, he decided to have some delivered to his desk later anyway.

* * *

It took Mike nearly an hour to sew up Harvey's jacket and in that time, he'd stabbed himself three times, cursed five times, and almost stabbed Harvey once (he'd sneaked up on him and, contrary to popular belief, Mike's fight-or-flight instincts more often leaned toward fight). After nearly two minutes of listening to Mike hum "Moves Like Jagger" terribly, Harvey confiscated his iPod and put on one of his records; The Beatles. Mike had smiled and did this weird swaying, head-shake-shoulder-raise maneuver while Paul McCartney chirped about Lady Madonna and her magical ability to have children and money at the same time.

"What are you doing?"

Mike stopped and looked up at Harvey. "Umm...sewing?"

"No, that...thing you were doing before?"

Realization dawned on his face in the form of a straightened back and a small, shy smile. "Dancing?"

Harvey but his lip to keep from laughing. "A word of advice; don't do it in public."

Mike nodded, face bright red and stayed still as he sewed for all of five minutes before he began "dancing" again. Harvey simply smirked and shook his head fondly before getting back to work.

* * *

Just as he was about to move the file in front of him into the done pile, a mended suit jacket landed on top of it. "Done. Now, as for payment, I accept cash, check, and/or credit card."

Harvey chuckled. "Hold your horses-payday doesn't come until I see you've done a good enough job to deserve anything."

Mike snorted. "Did you seriously just tell me to 'hold my horses'? How old are you again?"

"A million and ten, now hush while Daddy's concentrating."

Mike giggled a bit, but quickly shut up at the glare Harvey gave him. Harvey looked back at the suit and carefully turned it onto its front and turned it so the end was closest to him, not Mike. And instantly his jaw dropped.

If he hadn't spent three minutes trying to get it out of the elevator doors and then another two minutes morning the resulting rip, he wouldn't have known there had been one at all. The seam was excellent, matching perfectly with the previous one on the inside and remaining invisible on the outside. Harvey almost wanted to give Mike one of his much-wanted fist punches. Almost.

"How...-"

"-Did I get this awesome? I'd say overnight, but I was born this way!", he said, singing the last part to the tune of the song by the same name.

Harvey rolled his eyes. "I was going to ask how you learned to sew, but now I'm seriously doubting whether I want to know at all."

Mike's normal giddy, childlike excitement dulled to a small smile and a calm aura. "Grammy taught me, before...Mom used to do it with me, but she was never good at it. She always used to pretend to get jealous, throw her needles across the table and push her pile of yarn or thread-ball-thing towards me and ask me to fix it so she could tell Grammy she made something good.", he chuckled and shook his head, looking sort of sad and sort of happy. "After, when I started living with Grammy, we couldn't afford new clothes sometimes, so I'd just sew up or lengthen old clothes so they'd fit better or look less 'salvation army'. And if you don't want kids to pick on you, you have to be good at it."

Mike ended his little tale with a shrug and a mumbled, "If you laugh, I'll poison your coffee".

Harvey was tempted to comment on Mikes story, but decided against it with a smirk. "Like I wouldn't notice."

"I could ask Donna to help."

Harvey rolled his eyes and gestured to the door. "Thanks. Now, go get to work on the Morris briefs and bring them back to me by six."

Mike pouted but didn't move. "What? That's it?"

"What's it?"

"I bring your best jacket back from death and all I get is a 'thanks'?", Mike griped.

Harvey rolled his eyes. "Well, what did you expect? A hug? Chocolate? Flowers?"

Mike smiled sweetly.

Harvey's face fell into a stony glare. "No. No hugging. Ever."

Mike let out a frustrated groan and leaned against Harvey's desk. "Awww, c'mon, just this once? You've got the blinds down and Donna's on a coffee break so no one would hear or see!"

"No means no, Mike. I don't even want to hear that word again."

Mike pouted, eyes pitiful and watery, and clasped his hands under his chin. "Please? Just this once? Five seconds, that's all."

Harvey shook his head, promising himself that if he wavered on everything else, this was the one thing he would not bow down to. No hugs. Ever.

Mike pouted a bit longer before giving Harvey a stinging glare as he got off his half-seat on Harvey's desk. "Fine, but I expect the chocolate to be good and the flowers to be lovely."

Harvey snorted. "Like I would give out anything less."

Mike turned around just as he neared the door, smirking with one hand still on the knob behind his back. "I can so imagine you being the kid who gave the girl he liked dead flowers and bugs instead of chocolate."

"Only because that's what you did for your first boyfriend."

Mike gasped and put one hand over his heart, wincing. "Ouch, Harvey. Ouch."

Harvey shrugged and swiveled in his chair back to facing his desk, and now his suit jacket. "Tough love, kid. Get used to it."

Mike chuckled and left the office.

* * *

The next morning started with Mike storming into Harvey's office, looking embarrassed and angry.

"Harvey!"

"Yes Mike, I did sleep well and my ride here was nice, thanks for asking."

Mike crossed his arm and glared. "You sent the chocolate and flowers to my desk."

Harvey looked up from his work and leaned back in his chair, folding his hands over his stomach and smiling. "I know. You're welcome."

Mike's glare grew and a small blush made its way to his cheeks. "The associates got to it first."

Harvey paled and leaned forward, grabbing his coffee and taking long drinks from it. "What?"

Mike collapsed into his armchair. "They ate it all and were reading the note before I got there. Now half of them think I have a secret admirer and the other half think you're my sugar daddy."

And then Harvey choked on his coffee. Mike smiled sardonically. "Well, I have work to do now. I expect to be compensated for my loss, and for it to not appear on my desk next time."

Harvey nodded, running a hand over is throat. Mike left with a smile and Donna high fived him, passing him his box of chocolates.

* * *

**(A/N): Okay so, this was just a little idea I got about how growing up with a woman, even an older one, as your parent would probably make your hobbies just a little different from other peoples. Knitting and sewing seemed like the obvious choice, so. Here we are (: The Beatles song, as you have probably guessed, is Lady Madonna and yes, it is magical.**

**Oh, and just so you know, Donna did get the stains off of Harvey's cloths. At least, that's his running theory. They disappeared after lunch and by the time he was getting ready to leave, it was back, ironed and stain-free. But who knows, maybe Mike's Grammy taught him a bit more than just sewing?**

**-Perse Q**


End file.
